Sex and the City: Extended Edition
by CJSeaborn1800
Summary: the first season of Sex now with extended and improved scenes. Erik wakes up in NYC. The times have changed but love is still just as hard!
1. Chapter 1

Once upon a time…in the glittering city of Paris…

He thought he had it bad, really bad. What more could possibly go wrong? he had lost the love of his life, and in so doing he had lost everything else as well. Such is love. As he ran through the streets that night, trying to escape the angry cries of the now displaced Paris Opera workers, he thought about how much easier his life would have been if he had just been born in a different time…in a different place…

As he ran, his foot slipped on the flagstone and he fell forward, slamming his already hurt face into the ground. He remembered nothing more that night.

The gypsy smiled down at the unconscious form. He knew what it was this man wanted; another life. And who deserved it more? This man had been denied what would have been considered a life; but he was going to be given a second chance.

He told me later he woke up in a bed, a bed he knew was not his own because it was much more comfortable than anything he had ever experienced. He said as he opened his eyes sun hit him in the face and that was when he knew he was not anywhere he recognized. He had lived underground, far from the sun.

I did not meet him until later that morning. I was late, as always. I had been out late the night before, the New York City night life was not to be missed, even if you had an early meeting the next day. I had rolled out of bed, poured my over worked, over partied body into the shower, cursing my friend Rebecca for keeping me out so late. Well, I thought as I shampooed, I could not really blame her; I had wanted to go out. There was a man there, name unimportant, and I had arranged to meet him. He had never showed. Bastard.

I ran out into the hallway, hopping as I slipped on my manolo blahnik strappy sandals, and I ran right into him.

"Oh…God, sorry," I said hastily, still fighting with my shoe, and then I looked up to see who I had bumped into. He was the strangest man I had ever seen. He must have been new in the building. He was incredibly tall, dark hair, and green blue eyes. And there was something wrong with one side of his face; years of etiquette told me not to stare but I could hardly help it.

He said nothing back and I wondered why. He looked to be about thirty nine; a good age, well dressed in what appeared to be a vintage tuxedo shirt and pants, and no wedding ring. Some may think it is a bit odd to always scan the ring finger, I say, don't judge.

"Um…I…," he looked bewildered, as though he had just seen a ghost, and I could not stay and chat, I was late,

"Nice meeting you!" I yelled back to him, although we had not really met, I ran down to the busy street outside.

He told me later that his fist day in New York City was the most bewildering he had ever experienced. He went outside and nearly fainted when he saw all the people and the way they were dressed and the tall towering skyscrapers. He told me he walked all over, getting lost and being shocked at all the things which had just been a twinkle in inventors eyes when he had last seen them.

He was sitting outside our building when I returned home from the firm where I worked. I was not in a good mood; the meeting had gone very well, in fact work was fine, it was the toxic bachelor Robert Coolidge, the bastard who had stood me up the night before.

Robert was about forty two and an investment broker. He had come to my office to apologize, but it was not so much an apology as an invitation for me to come to his apartment later that night.

He had shared a cab with me and had been getting on my last nerve all the way from my office, and I was thinking desperately for an excuse to make him leave when I saw him.

"I'm sorry Rob, but I made other plans for the night," I said, hoping he would play along,

"Plans with who?" Robert asked skeptically,

"Hey," I walked to my newest friend and put my arm through his, "Are you ready to go?" and I said a silent prayer he would understand.

He did not say anything but he let me lead him to the curb where I called a cab.

"Thank you," I muttered as we got in, "Dinner is on me,"

"There is nothing on you," he said, and I sighed, there really were no good men in the city, or so I thought. 


	2. The Prince

The prince

The first cab ride I shared with him was not the fairy tale meeting a woman in my position would have desired. It seems that no matter how many times we have our delusions about happily ever after shattered we have this inexplicable tendency to still expect the handsome prince instead of the wolf in man's clothing.

However, he was quite unlike any man I had ever seen, and having lived in New York City since I was twenty three, I have seen a lot of men. He sat quietly, staring at the tall buildings and glittering signs and throngs of people which flew past the window.

I played with the hem of my Channel skirt suit and tried to make conversation, "It this your first time in the city?" I asked him. When he had spoken he sounded foreign, French I thought.

"What city is this?" he asked in a dazed sounding voice.

I bit my lip and ran a hand through my hair; what had I gotten myself into? I thought he had to be either on drugs or have the worst case of jet lag in the history of the red eye, "This is New York," I said slowly, and then I had a thought.

"We don't have to go out to dinner, if you had other plans or something," I thought I sounded kind enough and not as thought I was making a desperate run for the back door out of my situation, "I can just have the cab circle around,"

For a moment I thought he was not going to respond, then he said slowly, "I want to eat," I raised my eyebrows, but not so much that he would notice.

"Alright then," damn, I thought, locked in.

Then came the problem of where we would go. It was still early, not yet seven o'clock, so it would not be too difficult to get in somewhere. I had the cab take us to a small two level place I knew called The Three Guys. The cab stopped and we got out; I threw the fair at the driver and the yellow cab tore away.

It was true that is was not quite the dinner hour, but there was still going to be a wait; about thirty minutes, the host told us, and I saw him glance nervously at my new friend, who I realized I had not even introduced myself to yet.

We waited outside, and in the awkward moment I decided to light my cigarette; but it did no good to alleviate the situation, so I tried something else.

"Thank you for playing along with this, I know it is silly and I never, ever do things like this but I desperately needed to get away from that guy," I blew smoke into the air, hoping he would say something; and of course he did not,

"My name is Olivia Moss, by the way," I said, and I wondered if I sounded as stupid as I thought I did, and I extended me hand for him to shake.

"Erik…Duval," he said, and instead of shaking it, he did something so unheard of in New York I had thought it was nothing more than a myth; he kissed my hand.

As a firm believer in the idea that romance had gotten a corporate job and a suit, I was unsure of his angle. But as I surveyed him I did not detect that strange vibe sent off by men who are trying too hard to be romantic. It seemed he really and truly believed that that was what he was supposed to do.

There was no further room for speculation at that moment however because the host came out to us.

"I am sorry, but I have to ask you two to leave," he said bluntly, and I stared back at him,

"Why the hell do we have to leave?" I was not happy, I had had enough harassment for one day and I just wanted to eat.

"The manager feels that…well…" and he looked over at Erik Duval.

"Is it because of the way he looks?" I said indignantly.

"Well, yes; he is frightening some of the people who are already eating,"

"Well fuck them!" I said, "Let me tell you; I can make you have a very very bad day if I feel like it; I work at a law firm and I know a guy down at the health department who can give this place an inspection Buckingham Palace could not pass; so think hard before you kick us out of here,"

The man quickly reconsidered. 


	3. Blond, Rich and Young

Blond, Rich, and Young 

The host turned to lead us to a table. I was about to enter behind Erik when I realized due to the fact that certain self important people don't want lung cancer I had to put out my cigarette.

I turned back to the door to see another sight out of a fairy tale or an old movie; he was holding the door open for me; waiting for me to enter before him. I looked at him suspiciously as I walked through the door frame. What was this guy's deal? He had hardly said two words to me but he was treating me like a hopeless romantic would treat his girlfriend. Did he think he could substitute strange acts of chivalry for actual conversation?

We sat down at a table for two in the back corner of the restaurant which was fine with me because all I really wanted was to eat. Actually, under any other circumstances this might have been romantic, but not with him. With him it was awkward.

The host left us menus and I quickly took mine up; glad to have a distraction. However, the thin barrier of laminated paper was no match for his piercing gaze. I quickly looked up at him and then down again at my menu.

God, what the hell was I doing? I was a grown woman, not a sixth grader flirting with a boy in the cafeteria.

"Do you know what you are ordering already?" I asked, glancing at his untouched menu.

"No," he said, and he stared at me like I had two heads. I tried to ignore him and looked back down at the menu but it was impossible.

"So…Erik?" he nodded; I knew that was his name but it seemed like the thing to say anyway, "When did you get to New York?"

He stared at me, "Why do you wear your hair that way?' he asked bluntly, and I immediately raised my hand to my shoulder length honey blond hair. What the hell was this guy talking about? My hair was stylish, or at least it should be for how much I paid to get it cut. It was layered, parted on the side and immaculately straightened.

"Excuse me?" I asked irritated, "There is nothing wrong with my hair, and even if there was I don't think you should be one to judge," he had some kind of slicked back look going on with these crazy sideburns; not a good idea fashion wise.

He looked away from me for the first time and I wondered if I had said something harsh. He had attacked me first…or perhaps he was not yet familiar with New York charm?

And then it hit me. I felt like I had been in an elevator which had just dropped ten floors. I could not believe I had missed it before as it had been a favorite pastime of the girls and me; spotting hair pieces.

His hair was not real, there must have been something wrong with him, probably the same reason the one side of his face was so disfigured.

There was an awkward pause and the waiter came over.

"Are you ready to order?" and by the tone of his voice he really wanted up to hurry up so we could leave.

"No," I said quickly.

"Could you please try to be timely? We have a lot of people waiting and..."

"Seriously, Buckingham Palace," I threatened, and the waiter hurried away.

"I only asked because where I come from women all where their hair long," he said this unexpectedly; it was the largest sentence he had uttered all night. I should have rewarded his effort with something civil, but it seemed I was not in the mood.

"Where are you from? The nineteenth century?" I said sarcastically, and had I know more I would have realized the irony of the situation.

"I do not think your hair looks unattractive, I just wanted to know why you wear it that way," He said, and for the first time it sounded like he was really trying to start a conversation.

"Well…I wear it this way because it is easier to take care of than long hair,"

"Why do you wear those shoes?" He asked. Apparently he had had enough of just observing his new world and now he wanted some answers.

"Because I am a masochist," I said immediately, rubbing my sore feet under the table; he just stared at me, "Because I like the way they look,"

"But they hurt your feet,"

"That's right,"

"And you still wear them,"

"Correct,"

He looked perplexed and I had to laugh. Men had been trying to understand the love between a woman and her shoes for years; no one ever got it.

"The truth is," I told him, "It can be very hard to walk in a single girl's shoes, so sometimes we need some extra special ones to make the walk a little more fun,"

He seemed to find this statement boarder line amusing because I saw a hint of a smile before I looked down at my menu again. His desire to talk had run away again so I had to start a new topic. "

So really, what brings you to New York?" I asked him, "New job? Adventurous sprit? Political asylum?" my gut suddenly clenched as I thought about what I would do if he answered political asylum.

"I don't know why I am here," he said, and since I did not know anything to the contrary, I thought he was one of those damn 'what is the meaning of life' people, and then I understood; the blank, sad look, the listless way of speaking…

"Broken heart?" I asked knowingly. He stared at me for a moment then nodded.

People are always telling you those frightening statistics, like every four seconds some one dies, or every twelve seconds someone gets hit by a car, or someone's house burns down or something. I have a theory that every minute, someone's heart gets broken.

"So tell me about her," I said. I was sure that he would at least want to vent about the woman who had caused him pain, and that could break the awkward tension between us.

"You want me to…tell you about her?" He asked confused; men are not as used to going over every detail of their failed relationships as women are.

"Yes, what did the bitch do?" I asked, taking a bite out of a roll on the table.

"She, well she…" He began uncertainly, and then he plunged on, "She left me for another man,"  
I nodded, "Were you married?"

"Well, not really, we were…engaged, sort of,"

"The same thing happened to me," I said, which it had, in fact I think the same thing had happened to everyone, "Let me guess, she left you for someone younger with more money and blond hair?" Man or woman, when they leave you, it is for someone younger, with more money and blond hair.

"How did you know?" He stared at me amazed.

I laughed "Classic modern fairy tale," I leaned forward, "Let me tell you a secret," I whispered, "Romance is dead,"

The waiter came back again and this time we were ready to order. After he hurried off to no doubt rush our dinner so we would leave. There was a brief pause in which I sipped water out of the glass on the table.

"Did you say the same thing had happened to you?" He asked me suddenly.

I nodded, "I was seeing this guy for five years, we get engaged, and then two weeks before the wedding he runs off to Hawaii with his secretary," I could barley retell this story without throwing something, and even now, after three years of friend therapy I still wanted to hurl my water glass into the wall a little bit.

"I guess it was for the best that I never married him," I continued, "he showed his true colors as a jerk just in time, if we had gotten married I bet we would be divorced by now, but still…" I realized I was telling this man I hardly knew some very personal things about my love life. Usually complaining about lost love is not something you want to do when you first meet a man, but this was not a normal date. Besides, there was something about him…I felt like he understood.

"The question is still there," I fiddled with the rim of my glass as I spoke, "Even though he was an ass hole, why didn't he love me? Why wasn't I the one?" I shook my head, "Pathetic right?"

"No," Erik responded more quickly and firmly than he had all night. Erik felt like one of those people who had just gotten his weight guessed correctly at a carnival. I had said exactly what he was thinking.

100 plus years might have gone by, but dating, relationships, and love were still the same.

"Why would someone leave you?" he asked, and again he somehow managed to avoid sounding trite when he said this.

"Because she was young, and platinum blond, and from a rich family, and had a body like a model," I said bitterly, wondering where that damn waiter was so I could order a chardonnay.

"But…you are young…and blond, and you seem rich; I don't really know what a model is, but if it means you look beautiful than you look like a model,"

Only this man, only this strange man could say that and not sound like a New York sleaze. Something about him, the sad, pitiful look in his eyes that suggested he did not quite understand love, made me think; damn.

It took me a moment to process this statement. Everyone calls you beautiful, gorgeous, hot…but not all sound like they mean it. I had never had someone I just met tell me I looked beautiful and really mean it.

"Did I say something wrong?" Erik was sure he had. Why else would my face be so red? He was sure he must have said something very stupid.

"No…no you didn't,"


	4. Brave New World

Brave New World 

Food came at last; not the best, not the worst, just something to eat. Silence ensued again as we ate. I hated awkward silence, and this was the epitome of awkward silence.

"So what to you do? For a job I mean?" I asked at last.

"I…well, I write music," he said, and then a dark look came over his face, "Of course, I used to write music for her, so I do not think I will be doing that anymore,"

"If you really love writing music, you should not give it up just because she was a bitch," I said between bites of salad, "You should never sacrifice your career for a lover," I was a firm believer that while he can break up with you for any reason at any time, your job you can always keep; if you don't screw up.

"I started writing music for her anyway; I think if I just try to forget about it that would be best," He looked off into space. If I had known at that moment what he was going through I would have bought him a bottle of wine then and there. In a new time, far away from everything he had ever known, heart still reeling from breaking, head still reeling from waking up in this brave new world.

"I tried that; just block out everything about the past," I picked at my food with my fork, "It does not work as well as you would like; you end up remembering and throwing a fit anyway, the best remedy for a broken heart will always be a drunken night with your friends,"

"And if you do not have any friends?" he asked. Crap, I thought, now what do I say?

"Family works to," please let him have family, I thought.

"And if you don't have that either?" Crap.

"Well some time I will just have to take you out and get you drunk," Crap, crap crap! I didn't think I wanted to be around this guy any more than I had to…at least, I didn't think I did.

"You are lying aren't you!" he said, staring at my uncomfortable expression, "I know that look! You feel bad for me, so you say you will do something you really don't want to do and something you will try your hardest to get out of," He understood better than I thought. Crap.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't really want to do," He sounded like my date after the junior prom.

"All I want is this one favor; I have never been…here…before; I don't know where anything is, so if you could just show me around?"

Suddenly I felt like I was seeing behind a magic trick. Had his whole lost, heartbroken appearance been an illusion? A clever ploy to get me to go out with him again? Of course it was not, but I am a foolish, cynical skeptic, what was I supposed to think?

"Um…I don't know, I am pretty busy," I said.

He looked like he was about to say something, then he changed his mind.

"Fine," he said simply, and it looked as though he was mentally kicking himself.

As much as I hated to admit it, I had had a hard time looking at his face. At first I had not even been sure I would be able to get through dinner with him. When we had been seated, to avoid looking at his deformity, I had been looking down at the table and just listening to what he said.

And there it was. There was something about his voice. Who ever heard of being attracted to a voice? But it was undeniable. The more I just listened to him the more I just wanted to listen. My eyes had been drawn up to meet his, the twisted skin on his cheek had slowly become like the plot in an action movie; it didn't really matter.

Maybe being his welcome to the city girl would not be so bad. I did owe him; after all I had been the one who pulled him into this. Plus, I could not stand the look of rejection on his face after I told him I was busy.

"Alright," I agreed, "I can show you the sights, what do you want to see?"

He brightened considerably, "You live here, what should I see?"

I sighed, what shouldn't you see in New York?

It was dusk outside, and I thought we might as well get started. We left the restaurant; I did not leave a good tip.

I had a cab take us down through Time Square. He stared out the window amazed. He insisted that we get out of the cab and walk around. Every neon sign and every loud noise was astounding to him.

It was actually kind of fun. Most people in New York were jaded and walked past every landmark and modern marvel without giving anything a second thought; but not him.

To him it was all incredible, and I could not help but get caught up in his enthusiasm for the scenes around us. And of course there was his voice; it was striking how much I liked to hear that voice.

The sun sank and we were still wondering around. I told him every detail I could think of about the city I loved so much. It was strange to have such an attentive listener.

Everything was going fine; he turned out to be quite smart, if not confused, and sardonic, which I find entertaining, and after stopping in several places for drinks, he did not look so bad.

True to New York fashion, the moment when I was actually beginning to relax around my strange new friend was the moment I saw him. We were about to enter a new fusion restaurant and bar called Mayan. It blended classic South American dishes with Mediterranean food and, well, drinks.

Of all the bars in all the barrows in all New York, he had to walk out of Mayan! Mark Berry; my ex.

He was standing outside the bar; on his arm was the young, rich, blond who he had left me for. My heart, which I had thought was back together, began splitting apart as I watched the man I had thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with kiss another woman.

And he was going to see me. I could not let him see me! Not when I hadn't moved past him and I had just been stood up the night before. That was not the way I wanted him to see me. I wanted to flaunt my own winning relationship in his face and show him I did not care for him anymore and that he had not hurt me.

That, and the cosmopolitans I had been drinking all night, was why I did it. Mark was about to turn and look at me and I just grabbed him. I pulled him close to me and prayed he would understand as I pressed my lips to his. My mind was buzzing; I was kissing a stranger in the middle of the street so I could avoid my old fiancé.

And then there was the actual kiss. He was shocked to say the least. Slowly he wrapped his arms around me. Most men would have taken full advantage of the situation, going in with the tongue and letting the hand travel down my backside; but he did not. He hardly touched me, but he was very sweet.

He actually felt quite good, and I found myself enjoying this kiss more than I thought I would. I blame all the other men in New York for this kiss; if I had not been so starved for true affection I might not have been so comfortable with making out with a man I had only known for a day.

If all the bad dates, bad boyfriends, and worse breakups had not driven me half crazy I don't think I would have fallen into a stranger's arms.

And Erik? Well so many unbelievable things had happened to him in the last day, what was one more?

I saw my ex walk past us; only looking for a moment at what he had thought were two lovers. Even though they were gone, I held on to him a moment longer. I finally drew away. His arms had barley been holding me and as I pulled back he let them fall to his side. The poor man, I must have confused the hell out of him.

"I am so sorry…again," I said, realizing that was the second time that day I had used him to get out of an uncomfortable situation with a man, "That man that just walked by," I pointed, "He is my ex, and I just couldn't face him," God I sounded pathetic.

"I don't understand you at all," Erik said to me, "Why did you do that?"

"I didn't want to talk to him, and it was the first thing that came to mind," I confessed.

"You stopped seeing him three years ago and you still feel heartbroken when you see him?" he asked, no doubt thinking that if I was still not over my ex, how could he ever get over Christine?

I nodded, "Hurts like hell every time I think about him,"

"There is no hope for any of us then," he said, and I snorted.

"Now you are beginning to develop the sense of pessimism which is vital to every New Yorker," I got a cap, "Welcome to the brave new world,"


	5. Cry a little, eat too much

I had one more place I wanted to go. I had not really been thinking of going there until the disaster with Mark. Now I wanted to clear my head.

We were silent in the cab; both feeling quite awkward after my random display of fake affection.

The cab stopped and I led him toward a building. Erik thought it was another bar or restaurant. He had no way of knowing how very different the building was.

As we entered my cell went off. Erik stared at me fascinated as I brought the phone out of my purse. He had no idea what the tiny, thin piece of colored metal was, or how it was making that noise.

"Oh, it's my friend Rebecca, hang on," I was oblivious to his wonder as I opened my flip phone and pressed a button. "Hey, Rebecca I can't really talk right now," To his astonishment Erik heard the voice on the other end.

Ever interested in new inventions and technology, he wanted to ask me how it was possible for me to communicate using this device. He refrained from asking though, he understood that as a man living in whatever year this was, he should know about this ringing piece of metal that allowed you to talk to others.

He had seen quite a few people holding one of these things to their ears. He had just thought they were crazy or something.

A man at the ticket counter we were walking towards saw me on the phone, "Miss please turn off your cell phone while you are inside," So it is a cell phone, Erik thought.

I did not pay any attention to his instructions but I did feel like it was rude to talk to Rebecca with Erik there. "Alright I'll talk to you later," I hung up. I finally noticed the astonished look on his face. I followed his gaze to my phone, "What?"

"Nothing," Erik lied quickly, "What are we doing here?"

"Going up," Going up to the top of the Empire State Building was a tourist favorite in New York and I did not think he would object. I paid for our tickets, truth be told Erik was quite an expensive date, and we waited for our turn in the elevator.

I glanced over at him when we were on our way up. He was looking quite sad and confused, but there was a hint of anger in his face as well. I could not blame him. I had been toying with him all day, not to mention he was not over his own ex.

The other passengers in the elevator, not that there were many, tried as best they could to keep away from Erik due to the strange way he looked. I glared at the one girl who seemed the most taken aback by him; a thin little blond who spoke with an English accent. I did not see who she was to judge anyone; she was wearing a scrunchy in her hair.

"What is this place?" Erik whispered to me finally, but we were almost outside.

"Just wait and see," I said, and I opened a door and led him out into the night.

I heard him gasp beside me as the thousands of lights that made New York City appeared below us.  
"This is incredible," Erik breathed, staring out onto the bright dots below.

It was incredible; to gaze down at the lights of New York at night is to seen an earthen bound field of stars.  
"I know; the first time I came to New York, when I was fifteen, I came up here with my family and when I saw this, I knew this was where I wanted to live," "I cannot believe man built all this," Erik said, stunned.

"Beautiful isn't it?" I smiled at his impressed expression, "I come up here sometimes, just when I need perspective; I always said I wanted to my boyfriend to propose to me up here," I have no idea why I said this.

"Did he?" Erik asked.

"No," I said, looking out into the night, "He proposed in Paris; which was wonderful; he took me to a show and then out to dinner, and then as we were walking home he popped the question," I sighed as I remembered, "And I will always remember him fondly, as an ass hole," I muttered.

We stood silent for some time, just looking. I think Erik felt as though his mind had just been sent through a ringer. He was seeing a sight grander and more spectacular than he had ever dreamed possible. And as he looked at the lights he wondered; could he handle this change? Perhaps…with all the people in this city, and all the new opportunities, maybe he could forget his past, and find someone like him in the world, some one who was…

"Do you think I am a freak?" he asked me suddenly.

"All men are freaks," I said automatically, "I guess all women are freaks too, in fact I think there is something seriously wrong with each and ever one of us," I lit another cigarette, "But if you really want to think about it; what is normal anyway?"

"Not me," Erik said, "Normal people do not look like this,"

What could I say? He had a point. Normal people did not look like that. Still, I wasn't going to tell him that. I had to say something else, and quick because the longer his comment hung in the air the closer it got to passing into truth because I did not refute it. But he beat me to answering.

"You see, I am right, a person should not look like this; that was what Christine thought, and that is why she left me. If I looked like a normal man, none of this would have happened,"

I had never heard such self loathing; and I am a lawyer. We all struggle with self image issues; how else could you explain yoga, gym memberships, and fat free sugar free ice cream? But this man had a problem you could not fix by running a mile each day or getting a hair cut like the rest of us could.

"It is why people hate me," he continued, and I was glad there was fencing separating him from the city below, because he might have jumped.

"If I did not look like this I would not be along all the time," he said miserably, and I realized I had brought this on myself. I had been the one to rope him into coming to dinner. I had said I would show him around. I had dug the hole, but I was not ready to fall into it yet and let this whole evening go to hell.

"Now that is just not true," I said, blowing smoke out into the night air, "Look at me; I am all alone, believe me, most people find they are alone in this city and all they have to relay on is themselves,"

"What if you do not want to be alone?" he asked.

"Join the club, and in the mean time, buy a dog," I replied sardonically.

"So you are all alone?" he probed.

"God, you don't have to say it like that," I had enough reminders without the total stranger telling me I had no one special in my life. I kept in mind that he was a total stranger I had made out with on the street.

"But you are alone?"

"Yes,"

"And you are happy?"  
"Most of the time," I said, and it gave me a good feeling to know that I was being sincere.

"And what about the rest of the time?" he asked.

I considered for a moment, "You cry a little; pay too much for shoes, eat a little too much ice cream, and then you go on with the rest of your life because you have to,"

Erik thought about this for a moment. Concluding that he was a monster and a freak with no soul did not seem to work very well to let him have a good life. And then he had a thought; he was alone, but he was not alone in being alone.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," I said at last, "I went to a state fair once and I saw the world's fattest twins; both married," I shook my head, "So if they can find love, there must be hope for everyone…somewhere out there is another little freak just like you who will understand you, love you and…kiss your three heads and make it all better,"

"So you think…love…is possible?"  
"Anything is possible, this is New York,"

We stood there for awhile, just watching the city below. Even thought the weather was improving as spring kicked into full gear, it was a chilly night and I shivered slightly. He noticed even this small motion on my part and he removed the evening jacket he had been wearing all night and draped it over my shoulders.

Again I was struck; where had this guy come from? Was there something in the water in Paris that made man want to perform shows of chivalry which had closed in New York years ago?

Normally I would have refused the coat. I did not need a man to help keep me warm; I just wanted one. But this was different; he was not trying to pick me up, I was not on a date with him, nothing was calculated; he just thought I was cold.

"Come on," I said finally, "I really need to be getting back home,"

In the cab ride home I felt exhausted; we had been all over the place and I just wanted to go home, crawl under the covers, and sleep.

My door was finally in sight; now only one awkward thing remained. How were we going to say goodnight?  
This had not been a date, but I was not sure if I had changed the rules when I had kissed him or not. Before I could answer my own question he opened his door.

"Good night," he said simply, and then he entered his apartment and closed his door.

Well, I thought, at least that was not so awkward. I was inside before I realized that I was still wearing his coat.  
I had two options; I could go and return it to him at that second, or I could admit that he had inadvertently done the equivalent of a woman leaving her purse with a man to secure a call back. I set the coat on the back of a chair and fell into my bed.

As for Erik, he walked around his new home, still clueless as to how he had gotten there, and still wondering why exactly he had been sent here. He felt tears rise in his eyes several times as he wondered aimlessly around. He thought of Christine and he wondered where in all this she was, and if she was happy, and why she had never been happy with him. Normal behavior for a heartbroken man.

In the kitchen he inspected the large, steel cabinet that was cold inside. Finding the freezer he looked at a carton, taking it out he read the side; it was the ice cream I had been talking about. He found a spoon, and then went into the spacious living room and pulled a chair over to the window. He sat, he cried a little into the ice cream, and he watched as the night slowly faded and the sun rose over New York City.


	6. The Freudian Slip

The Freudian Slip

The next morning came too early for my taste. I don't think I have had proper sleep since I came to New York. I raised my exhausted head off the pillow and forced myself to get ready. It was not until I looked at myself in the full length mirror in the bathroom that I realized I had fallen asleep in my clothes. I shook my head. I was almost out the door before I noticed his coat on the back of my chair. Damn.

I decided to go directly over to his door and give it back. That way I would have an out if I needed one; I had the excuse of having to go to work. I grabbed my purse, his coat, my wallet, and I was out the door.

I rapped on his door. He answered almost immediately; looking as though he had not slept at all.

"Your coat," I handed him the garment. He stared at it for a moment.

"Thank you," he said slowly.

"I have to go, I am late for work," I said and I turned and walked quickly away. As I turned I tripped a little as my four inch Jimmy Choo heel caught the carpet. I stumbled but I didn't look back. I was sure I looked pretty stupid to him though.

Erik watched me go, believing by my abruptness I was angry with him, or that I simply did not want to see him again. And I didn't; well at least I did not care either way. He was just another man, another complication, another mistake. And plus, in the bright light of a new morning, he looked a bit weird.

He closed the door and threw the coat down on the floor, not really caring where it landed. If he was honest with himself he had to admit he was no closer to understanding what was going on than he had been the day before.

Erik had been around the apartment hundreds of times. He had looked into the closets and noted that they were full of clothes he had never seen before. His whole apartment contained so many things of mystery; a passport, a wallet, a cell phone, a microwave, a TV; all of which he had little to no idea of how to use.

His first encounter with the new technological kind came that day around noon. He heard a noise coming from somewhere; a kind of ringing. He remembered the noise my phone had made the night before.

He located the source of the noise and saw a light was flashing as well. Thinking about how he had seen me use my phone he took a guess at how to use this one.

Erik picked up the phone and waited, should he say hello?

"Hello?" he heard a woman's voice.

"Hello?" Erik repeated; amazed at the fact that he could communicate with someone this way.

"May I speak with Erik Duval?"

Wondering how on earth this woman knew a name he had thought he had just made up, it took him a moment to respond, "Speaking," he said.

"Mr. Duval this is Karen Hegel, with Mont Building and Design, I am calling to confirm your interview with Mr. Mont, at nine o'clock this Monday?"

Erik felt a hundred questions fill his head, but all he said was:

"Yes, thank you,"

"We will see you Monday then," the woman said brightly, "Have a good weekend," and there was a click on the other end.

Erik put the phone back down. What was Mont Building and Design, and how had he gotten an interview there? Was this someone else's life he had taken over somehow? And what day was it? And what time was it? What year was it?

It was Friday night in New York, 2004. I was on my way to meet my three friends; Rebecca Jones, the girl who kept me out too late, Susan York, the girl who never stayed out too late, and Jackie Nixon, the girl who kept us all in high fashion without too high a price due to her being an editor at VOGUE magazine.

These three women were my best friends. I thought of them as an extension of my family. Since our twenties we had been battling together against bad dates, work set backs, and personal crises.

We were all very different, but this was the one shimmering island in the world were the strangest people have a way of coming together. And we did have one major thing in common; none of us had found l-o-v-e.

Some say that talk is cheap, and if that is true than we were the four cheapest women in the city.

No topic was out of bounds for us; marriage, divorce, fidelity, compatibility, commitment, strange new predilections, and of course, 'location, location, location.'

I met them right after work. I had had to stay late to finish a brief. They were already seated in the crowded Chelsea restaurant Bungalow 8. The theme was a throw back to Beverly Hills Hotel and old Hollywood. I guess that would explain the potted palm trees. It was one of the most happening restaurants and to get in you had to be, as Rebecca put it, utterly fabulous.

"There you are!" Rebecca shouted at me as I navigated around the tables full of people to get to them, "So who was more important than talking to me last night?"

"What?" I had had a long day and the events of the night before had been the last thing on my mind.

"Did Robert finally show?" Rebecca smiled wickedly at me. To her, being stood up by a guy one night would not stop her from having great sex with him the next.

"Oh yes; he came to my office last night and followed me all the way home," I shook my head, "I finally got him to leave me alone by saying I had dinner plans with someone else,"

I suddenly bit my lip, did I want to tell my friends that I had spent the pervious night playing tour guide to the guy I used as a make believe boyfriend to get me out of awkward situations with other men?

"So then what?" Rebecca prompted, "Who were you with when I called?"

"My neighbor," I admitted.

There was a general intake of breath around the table and everyone leaned closer.

"Who is he?" Susan asked.

"His name is Erik…it was his first night in New York," I confessed.

"A New York virgin! Did you sleep with him?" Rebecca believed that four hours was the equivalent of four dates. Therefore she always slept with a man after the fourth date.

Jackie shook her head and smiled wryly, Susan looked scandalized, and I just laughed.

"I just met the guy!" I said.

"So," Rebecca spoke in a business like manner, "You could still have slept with him; gave him an exciting first night," she sipped her cosmopolitan.

"I am woman, not a welcome mat," I said.

"I think I read that on a sampler once," Jackie said sarcastically, winning laughs from all of us.

"Okay, so why didn't you sleep with him?" Rebecca persisted.

"She shouldn't have slept with him! She just met him!" Susan patted my arm, "Is he boyfriend material?" Susan had this idea that every new man we met could turn out to be 'the one.'

"No," I said, "He is too wonderful-I mean weird," all my friends stared at me and I felt like slapping myself in the face, "He acts strange," I tried to explain, "he does weird things; like he held the door open for me, and he gave me his coat to wear,"

"Aww…that sounds sweet!" Susan exclaimed, "What is wrong with that?"

"Oh no, don't get involved with a man like that," Jackie warned me, sipping her red wine, "First he is holding open doors; then he is asking you to quit your job, buy a van and move up state,"

"That's not true!" Susan argued, "He could just be trying to be sweet,"

"No one is just trying to be sweet," Rebecca interjected, "They are just trying to get laid or…get laid,"

"I think I saw that on a sampler somewhere," I said.

"So how old is he?" Susan pressed; determined to give this guy she did not know a chance.

"I don't know, thirty nine?" I guessed exasperated.

"Has he ever been married before?" Susan asked.

"Well actually; his fiancé left him," I said.

"Aw, that's so tragic!" Susan exclaimed, "It's like a romantic fairy tale! He came to New York brokenhearted, and then he met you,"

"And then he goes out and sleeps with all the other woman in the city," Rebecca tore down Susan's fantasy life, "Remember honey; there are no romantic fairy tales,"

"That's what I say, romance is dead," I continued, "This meeting won't not turn into a relationship,"

"Don't you mean that it will not turn into a relationship?" Jackie looked at me with her eyebrows raised.

"That is what I said," wasn't it?

"No, what you said was that it _won't not_ turn into a relationship!" Susan cried happily, "You subconsciously like him!"

I sighed, "This is not high school Susan; if I _liked_ him I would say so,"

"But you did say so! You Freudian slipped it!"

"I did not," I had certainly not done anything of the sort, but then I began to wonder… I had just accidentally said I thought we could have a relationship. The night before I had seen Mark, the former object of my undying affection, but I had _kissed_ him, what did that mean?

My phone rang. I rummaged through my purse to find it; "Olivia Moss," I said hurriedly and everyone at the table stopped talking to listen to me.

"O-Olivia?" I recognized the voice immediately. It made my stomach flip…that voice!

"Erik?" I was bewildered, "How did you get this number?"

"It was in your wallet,"

Of course! I had gotten out of a cab in front of my office that morning to an unpleasant discovery. My Prada wallet was missing. I had paid the cabbie with a stray twenty I found floating around in my purse.

I had planned on going home and getting my wallet later in the day but ran out of time. As I had been late to dinner already I had dipped into the emergency money I kept in my office.

I was relieved to find my wallet, but I was shocked to find that Erik had ended up with it.

"How did you get my wallet?"

"It was in my coat pocket; I just found it, do you need it?" he was standing in his apartment and he had picked up the coat, found the wallet and gone through it. He did not know much, but by the way I had paid for everything the night before with the credit cards and the bills, he thought I might need the continents. He had found a slip of paper I had written my number on when I had first gotten my phone. It had been labeled, "My cell phone."

"Well, yes, but I am not at home; I am at dinner,"

"Oh…well…where?"

"Bungalow 8, 515 West 27th Street, Chelsea," I rattled off the name and address of the restaurant, "You can come down and bring it to me,"

I didn't really need it at the time. I had enough money to get me home. Sadly, I was not getting carded any time soon so I did not need my driver's license.

I did not need the wallet at all. And yet, I still asked Erik to come and bring it to me. Perhaps Susan was not far off the mark.

"Who was that?" Rebecca asked,

I just stared at the cell phone, "It was him," I said slowly, "I must have gone to put my wallet in my purse, and put it in his coat pocket instead,"

"Wait…what did you do?" Rebecca looked at me confused.

I looked up, "Remember I said he let me wear his coat last night because I was cold? Well I gave it back to him this morning and I was in such a rush I must have accidentally slipped my wallet into his pocket instead of into my purse,"

"Accidentally on purpose!" Susan exclaimed, "You put your wallet into his pocket so you would have to go over and see him again, or he would have to bring it to you!" Susan smiled triumphantly, "You _do_ like him don't you!"

"No," I said firmly, but I knew I was lying. I had enjoyed our night together. He had been heartbroken and solemn but at least he had not been jaded. He had been smart, God knows he had been polite, and at the end of the night he had not turned into an amoeba whose sole intent was getting through the door and into the bed. In New York a man who acted normal, even if he didn't look normal, was so rare it was like moving more then ten blocks in noonday downtown traffic in under fifteen minutes.

And I wanted to see him again; there was only one problem.

"Listen when he gets here, I have to warn you; one side of his face is really strange looking," I tried to explain this tactfully.

"Strange like lazy eye strange or like elephant man strange?" Jackie said.

"Closer to the elephant man side of the spectrum," I said seriously.

"Eww, really?" Susan shrieked; her fairy tale romance was shattered as the handsome prince became the ogre.

"Susan, are you twelve? You don't say 'eww,' and you have to be _nice_ to him," I said, and as I waited, my eyes on the door, I wondered what would happen because of my little wallet slip.

BLOOPERS AND FUNNY STUFF!

Guys, just a thought, who should be cast in the roles of all the characters? LOL tell me what you think!

I decided to go directly over to his door and give it back. That way I would have an out if I needed one; I had the excuse of having to go to work. I grabbed my purse, his coat, my wallet, and I was out the door.

I rapped on his door; he answered almost immediately.

(Erik opens the door dressed in full on Don Juan attire, leans seductively against the door frame)

"Hey baby,"

Olivia laughs hysterically, as does rest of filming crew.

"CUT!"

I decided to go directly over to his door and give it back. That way I would have an out if I needed one; I had the excuse of having to go to work. I grabbed my purse, his coat, my wallet, and I was out the door.

I rapped on his door; he answered almost immediately.

(Erik opens the door with no shirt on)

"Hey baby"

"CUT!"

I decided to go directly over to his door and give it back. That way I would have an out if I needed one; I had the excuse of having to go to work. I grabbed my purse, his coat, my wallet, and I was out the door.

(Olivia knocks on Erik's door and then runs away before he opens the door. Erik opens the door and no one is there)

Laughter from Erik and crew.

"CUT!"

I decided to go directly over to his door and give it back. That way I would have an out if I needed one; I had the excuse of having to go to work. I grabbed my purse, his coat, my wallet, and I was out the door.

I rapped on his door; he answered almost immediately; looking as though he had not slept at.

Erik looks to Olivia expectedly. Olivia shakes her head and laughs, "I have no idea why I am here!"

Erik is laughing to, "The one time we get it right and she forgets her line!"


	7. The Concrete Jungle

The Concrete Jungle

Erik ended the call. It had taken him all day, and quite a few random accidental calls to various listed Chinese takeout places to fully master the art of telephone-ary.

He had been picking up his coat from the floor when he realized it held something which was not his. Honestly, he had been glad to have a reason to talk to me as he had spent the whole day alone and perplexed. He still did not understand so many things.

However now faced with the prospect of actually going out he felt skittish and wondered if he should not have been so hasty in calling me. He thought he knew enough to get to the restaurant, after all cabs had been around in his day, they had just been pulled by horses.

But now he was facing the prospect of going out into public alone where everyone would stare at him. He had gone out like this on the first day he had been in New York, but that had been different, he had been so stunned, how could he not go out?

This seemed like a much worse situation that he was facing now, and what if he got lost? He had found his own wallet with bills identical to the ones I had been using to pay for things so he knew he had the money to get to the restaurant. Although he did not know how much this currency was worth…God this was going to be difficult!

The other problem was that he had been wearing the same clothes for almost three days, and that was certainly not acceptable. He opened his closet. The rows of expensive men's clothing intimidated him. He had seen the people walking on the streets the day before and noted how unlike their mode of dress was to his. As he had not been exposed to the wonders of modern media he had no idea how to dress.

He took a stab in the dark, and just grabbed something black. He had no idea he was playing into a classic rule; black is always _always_ in style. Erik changed in the room with the toilet. To his horror he discovered he smelled like death; ironically not a smell foreign to the streets of New York.

Erik stared around the room; everything looked weird. The shining silver knobs meant nothing to him. He approached what he would later find out was the shower. Reaching out, he stepped into the vertical tailed chamber and turned one of the knobs. To his unpleasant surprise he got a stream of cold water on his head.

All this considered it was no surprise that we were nearly finished with dinner and he still had not come yet.

"God, Liv, you have been looking at the door every five minutes, he will come when he comes," Rebecca said.

"Maybe he got lost;" Susan said worriedly, "New York is like a jungle if you don't know your way around,"

"I don't see how he could have," I said, checking my watch, "I told him were to go," but I knew there was a very good chance he was turned around somewhere. Erik was not a native New Yorker. He was not familiar with the indigenous tribes; the hookers, the cult of crazed cab drivers, the pan handlers, the muggers…oh God what if he was getting mugged?

"Well, I have to go," Susan said, and a giddy smile came over her face, "I am meeting John for a late movie," John Grove was Susan's latest knight in shinning armor. He was a wealthy businessman with an expensive town house which Susan already thought of as her dream castle.

"I should go to," Jackie said, "Deadline looming," she stood and put money down on the table and patted my shoulder, "We will meet Mr. Wallet Slip some other time,"

"You are going to?" I asked Rebecca, who was standing as well.

"Yes, you see that waiter over there; I have been eyeing him all night and he just got off, so now I can take him back to my place and he can get off again!" Rebecca smiled, eyeing the waiter seductively.

"And I thought leaving a 25 percent tip was the way to treat your waiter," Jackie said wryly, "Night Liv,"

All three girls left money on the table and me sitting and waiting for the man to come out of the jungle.

Erik was not having an easy time of it. He had spent fifteen minute figuring out how to work the shower, ten getting dressed, and then twenty working up his nerve to go outside. Once he made it out to the street; it took him fifteen more minutes to catch a cab. And then the cab took him to the wrong place, which he did not notice until the cab pulled away.

An hour and a half after our phone conversation he arrived at the front of the restaurant. The host greeted him.

"Ah, do you have a reservation?" he asked, and Erik noted that this man spoke in the same tone as the man at the restaurant the night before. He sighed; he was in a different time, but people were still the same species of mean when it came to his face.

"My…friend is already inside," he said, hoping he would be admitted into the room beyond.

"I am sorry, but the restaurant is very full and…"

Erik stopped listening to what the man was saying. He thought about Thomas Hobbs and his state of nature. If only, Erik wished. In a society with no rules he would have just choked the life out of this annoying man and gone into the restaurant.

However, instead of resigning to a state of no rules, we had all given our undying loyalty to a sovereign; The Norm and his wife, The Status Quo. Too bad for Erik he was a revolutionary.

But for now, he would have to try to play by the rules of the land.

And the rules of New York City are simple; you don't give up until you are in the door. You have to walk right past that doorman, bouncer, host or hostess and say, "Screw you, I'm going in!"

Though he left out the language, Erik did walk right past the host and into the restaurant.

"Sir! Sir!" The host went after Erik, trying to call him back. He wasn't listening.

I saw him from across the room through the mess of other tables and waiters and groups of women going to the bathroom and I smiled; he saw me and came over.

"Well look who made it! I was beginning to think you were lost," I said, and I have to admit I was relieved. If I had been responsible for calling him out on a suicide mission in to the deepest dark of New York City I don't think I would have been able to live with myself.

"Miss is he with you?" I saw the host who had followed Erik for the first time.

"Yes, he is with me, is there a problem?"

"No Miss, please enjoy the rest of your dinner,"

He sat down next to me. For the second time in two days we were out to dinner. In any other situation this would have been a rapidly progressing relationship. I stared at him for moment; impressed with his attire; quite New York for a non native.

Erik looked around the room; a panicked expression on his face, as though he did not belong.

"Did you bring my wallet?" I asked.

"Yes, here," he handed it to me.

"Thank you for brining it all the way down here," I put the wallet in my purse, "I hope it wasn't a big inconvenience,"

"I was not occupied," he said shortly.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, I was full but I thought it was rude to ask him to come all the way down here and then just make him leave with out eating.

"No," He responded. I was not aware of the fact that this man hardly ate anything; although I could have guessed it because he was very thin.

"Well then, let's get out of here," I said, standing and throwing money down on the tale. I led him outside.

"Where are we going?" he asked. I had planned on just going home, but than I realized he was expecting more and I think I owed that to him. I had asked him to come to me, and besides, it was not as though I had some other, wonderful plans.

"It's a good night for a walk," I said. We began in silence, and I did all I could to break it.

"So, what did you do today?" I asked him.

Erik felt his stomach churn. He did not want to appear stupid or crazy in my eyes, and he figured that if he said, 'trying to figure out how to work the phone and the thing that shoots out water,' he would sound just that. So instead he said, "Nothing,"

Damn him; sometimes his responses were so short it was like talking to a wall, "You must have done something," I pressed.

"I have a job interview Monday," Erik remembered.

"Where?" good, I thought, get him talking…

Good, Erik thought, I can have her help me figure out where this place is, "Mont Building and Design,"

What he didn't know was that he had just named one of New York's top architectural firms.

"I didn't know you were an architect; I thought you were a composer,"

"I do both," he said as we continued to walk down the street, glancing here and there at the various signs of another night in New York, "Do you know where Mont Building and Design is located?" he asked me.

"Actually yes," the place was only a few blocks from my own firm. I had dated a guy in legal there a few years ago.

"If you want we can share a cab there on Monday," It occurred to me that I was being extremely nice to this man I hardly knew, but he had helped me first, and in everything we had done together he had been a perfect gentleman.

I had attributed his good manners and tendency not to act like an ass hole to the fact that he had not been in the city long enough to adopt the traits of the native species of men.

Now, I don't mean to say that all men are jerks; just the one's I've dated. The New York City social scene can be like a dangerous tropical rain forest at times. You need to be familiar with all the types of life to keep from getting poisoned or getting eaten alive. I did not see Erik as the type who would, in the end, leave you feeling as though you had just been mauled by a wild cat.

So we walked together, and gradually he became more relaxed. No one was staring at him, one because in the dark it was hard to see the marred side of his face, and two because really, no one passing on the street gave a damn.

"So where did you study architecture?" I asked him.

"In Rome," he responded.

"That must have been incredible, do you speak Italian?"

"Not very well anymore, I am out of practice; I used to be better,"

We came to a street crossing, and he continued to walk although the light had not yet changed for us to go.

I quickly pulled him back by the hand, "Watch it!" I said as I grabbed him by the wrist, and for reasons of my own, I kept my hand in his. He felt a little cold, but I attributed that to the slightly chilled night, and it quickly warmed in mine.

"I always wanted to go to Italy," I continued.

"Are you interested in architecture as well?" he asked me. I wasn't aware of how hard it became for him to talk now that all he was thinking about was my hand holding his.

"No…shoes," I admitted with a small laugh.

"All the beautiful things in Rome and all you care about are shoes?" He squeezed my hand.

"No…I hear the food is good to," for the first time he laughed; not a long, loud laugh, but a laugh none the less; and it was sweet.

There is really nothing quite like walking alone with someone you like; you walk lighter, you smile more, and you don't notice how far out of your way you have gone until you realize you are kind of lost.

"I think we should head back," I said, "I don't think I know where I am anymore," the truth was I was talking about more than location. I did not know where I was with Erik. I liked him, he was different, and he was sweet in an old world sort of way. I had known him for two days, it was a fairly short time, but…I felt…lonely sometimes. It was hard being all alone all the time.

Erik did not know what was happening either. The whole world around him shocked him, but even more astonishing was the way I was acting. He did not have a lot of experience with women, but he got the feeling…I didn't hate him.

We took a cab home and he walked me to my door. Actually I was still holding his hand and I pulled him to my door. We stood there at my door for a few minutes and I felt my mind spinning. I knew I could feel something between us. There was an electricity around the two of us. I could let him go and spend another night alone watching crap on late night TV or I could…

"Good night," he said, and he turned to go and I decided. I pulled him back to me, my back pressed to the door, and my lips pressed to his. Only this time it felt different. This time he kissed me back. He didn't just lightly touch me, he pressed harder against me. I felt his hand pressing against by back, the other buried in my hair.

Yes, it was fast. But in New York, a city that moves so quickly we get the Sunday paper on Saturday, this was par for the course…at least for me.

For Erik this was like nothing he had ever experienced or expected. There were so many questions to be answered; why was I doing this? What would happen if we went through the door of my apartment? How did I feel about him? How did he feel about me?

But in the end, Erik was just a man after all. And as a man he knew that a woman he felt attracted to was kissing him, and as a man he knew he didn't want to stop.

We were just two people who had been searching for love all our lives and never found it. We had both been let down, rejected and heartbroken.

I blame passion for turning my head completely. I figured, even if he did turn out to be just another toxic bachelor in the jungle, I was ready to risk it all over again. I broke our kiss briefly to unlock my door and let us both in.

Now Erik felt anxious. I was pulling at his shirt and leading him deeper into my apartment.

With one kick of my high heeled shoe the door of my bedroom was open. I fell back onto the bed, bringing him down with me.

Never once did I get the feeling Erik wanted to stop.

He didn't want to stop, as nervous as he was. He had never been with a woman in this sense before and that fact had always shamed him. His face made him feel like less than a man, he didn't need his lack of experience with women to amply that feeling. He was determined to do this.

When it comes to men I have slept with all kinds; the good ones, the selfish ones, the fast ones and the ones who are so bad you have to fake it.

It was clear to me that Erik was unsure about what he was doing, but I didn't think anything of it. The first time is usually a little awkward. Besides, most men are so happy to have made it into the bedroom they don't think about where to go next.

He fumbled as he tried to take off my button up Cavalli blouse and I ended up taking it off for him. He also had no idea what to do with my bra so I took that off for him to.

Poor guy, he had almost felt sick when he had seen the bra. Of course it looked nothing like the undergarments of his day and he had no clue as to how to get it off. It frustrated him that he was so close to what he wanted but even when it was set right in front of him he didn't know how to get at it.

Erik hadn't had high hopes for himself in bed, but after not being able to remove blouse or bra he felt so embarrassed he just wanted to leave.

But I wasn't about to let him. I didn't think it was strange at all that he had had a difficult time undressing me. Lots of men had had the same problem. You would think that after all man kind had done, space ships, skyscrapers, frozen yogurt, they could handle a simple two hook clasp!

However this was not the case. One guy had actually become so frustrated with my bra once he had tried to pull it over my head! Of course that had not worked and it had totally ruined the mood.

This mood was not going to be ruined. With all I had going on in my life; trying to make partner, make rent, and still have a life was hard. Very rarely did I find a normal seeming guy who I was attracted to.

I could tell Erik's confidence was shaken so kissed his lips hard before trailing a path along his jaw to his ear. The moment my lips touched his ear lob I heard him groan. His grip on me tightened. I felt his hands on my back and I desperately wanted them to move…

Erik didn't know what to listen to; his head was telling him he would make a fool of himself and that he should get out of there. His...well lets just say his body, wanted him to stay, to explore and to enjoy.

His hand moved to my breast at last. I sighed with pleasure as his large hand touched me. My head fell back against the pillows and I closed my eyes.

Erik's lips pressed against my neck, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin. He was a natural at this. He sucked the skin on my neck so passionately I knew I would have a mark there the next day. And it felt wonderful. I made sure he heard me gasp and moan so that he would know he was doing a good job.

Erik heard all these little noises I was making and it made his desire grow. Still, even though I was encouraging him, he was unsure. What step should he take next?

I felt so hot all over I wanted to take my skirt, along with Erik's shirt and pants and throw them in a crumpled pile on the floor.

Figuring that Erik was not going to take charge any time soon, I did. I wasn't too young, or inexperienced, or shy.

I held him by his shoulders, sitting up and turning him until our positions were reversed and I was on top of him. Now I was in control, all Erik had to do was enjoy himself.

And enjoy himself he did. Erik watched me take off the skirt I had been wearing, along with the tiny piece of black lace underwear I had been wearing under it. He felt a jolt go through his body and, as nervous as he still was, he reached out and touched me.

He caressed my breast in one had, the other traveling down my side and then over the curve of my butt. Finally, I though, he is growing some balls! And speaking of which…

I had him undressed in a few minutes. His body was not that of a Greek God, but it was still appealing.

I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. I saw desire there, tinged a bit with fear but desire none the less. I knew I felt the same. We both knew…we were ready.

The first time was…well it was over so quickly I could hardly judge. But hey, that happens to everyone.

Erik knew he had not preformed perfectly and he felt embarrassed. He was very surprised when I continued to lay there next to him, running my fingers up and down his back and pressing my lips to his over and over again.

Even though he was not Casanova I still wanted him. I liked a lot of things about him; the way he listened when I told him things, the way he half smiled if I said something funny…the way his voice sounded, especially in the throws of sex…

In no time Erik was ready for another go. As it turned out, the second act was much better than the first. There was even a third act and a grand finale.

Satisfied and tired I thought nothing of it when I fell asleep in Erik's arms.

But Erik thought about it.

He lay on his back, one arm still hooked around me and the other flat on his chest. He stared at the ceiling. God, he thought, even the ceilings in this place looked different!

Erik had seen many strange things in his day, hell he had grown up with a traveling circus of gypsies! But this experience made the fire eaters and two headed snakes look normal.

The sounds of New York at night drifted in to him through my open window. Sirens, loud honks, people yelling to each other, car engines starting, buses going by…

Erik could not place any of these sounds though. He might as well have been in a jungle listening to wild animals at night.

And then there was me. Erik was more baffled by our relationship than any other thing he had experienced since coming to New York.

He could believe that technology had advanced in the way it had. His mind was ever brilliant and inventive; nothing was out of his scope technology wise.

But when it came to people, Erik could not believe how much women had changed since he had last loved one.

Where Erik came from, sex usually meant marriage or business. Lovers were rewarded for services rendered with some kind of payment; money, a fancy apartment in the city, jewelry, or a wedding ring.

Would I expect something from him now? He was sure I would, but he was not sure just what I would be expecting. He did not get the feeling that I was a prostitute or that I wanted him to marry me. That left him fresh out of ideas.

In the moment none of this had been important. As it had all been happening Erik had not been thinking, he had been feeling and experiencing for the first time.

Now all the questions were cropping up like weeds, toxic weeds that threatened to poison the night.

The sex had been great, wonderful in fact. Once Erik had gotten over his fear of failing miserably in bed everything had been amazing. The feeling of being inside of a woman was better than anything Erik had ever experienced before.

But what about the after sex?

The more he thought about it the more uneasy he felt. He had to get out of this bed; he had to get away from me. Erik had thought of another possibility far more humiliating than if I wanted something from him…wanting nothing else to do with him.

What if I never wanted to speak to him again? Never wanted to see him again? He thought perhaps now, just as transportation had evolved past horse and buggy, people had evolved past relationships.

Maybe sex was just something people did for pleasure and then never saw each other again. Either way, Erik did not think I would want to wake up next to him.

Even though I had given him no reason to believe I wanted him gone, Erik's mind was thinking for him again. And Erik's mind still could not believe that a woman would want him.

As carefully as he could he slunk from the bed. It was difficult for him to get out from under me without disturbing me but he managed.

He pulled on the pants I had thrown off earlier and checked his pocket; making sure his key was still there.

Erik scanned the room for his shirt. He had been wearing a black button up shirt which at the moment happened to be underneath me on the bed. Giving the shirt up for lost; Erik hurried out of my bedroom.

He couldn't be there when the sun rose and I told him to get out.

Who knows what did it. Maybe it was fate, maybe divine intervention, maybe just dumb luck. Whatever it was, something caused Erik's normally flawless night vision to fail him. His foot slammed into a table leg as he hurried through my living room.

His loud curse woke me up. It only took me a minute to realize I was alone in bed.

"Are you leaving?"

Erik turned to see me standing there. He was struck to see that I had put on his shirt…his shirt and nothing else.

"Do you want me to?" He got up the courage to ask the burning question.

"You can stay," I felt a bit foolish all of a sudden. I hardly knew this man; of course he would not want to stay. He was just leaving as any other one night stand would. The problem was I didn't want him to be a one night stand. I had done meaningless sex to death…I wanted something real.

"Are you sure?"

Even in the dark I could see how unsure he was. He looked remarkably like a child who had done something wrong and now was waiting for punishment.

"I'm sure," I went over and took his hand, "Come back to bed,"

He followed without further question. I lay down and waited for him to do the same. Erik sat on the side of the bed and rather sheepishly took off his pants again. He was surprised when he turned around to find I was right next to him.

And as he lay down I found that little nook between his arm and his chest I had been in earlier. That was exactly where I wanted to sleep.

Erik's questions were for the moment silenced. Whatever came in the morning, he knew that I wanted him there now.

New York is a city unlike any other. It is not surprising that new comers can feel at times like they are lost in a jungle of steel and concrete.

And just like the roads in this jungle we call The Big Apple, the relationships we create with our fellow inhabitants are confusing, twisted, ill planned and full of bumps.

Some of these roads lead to the altar, some to happiness where you least expect it, and some are just dead ends. But whatever lies at the end, the beginning is always worth it.

BLOOPERS AND STUFF!

Ok as for roles, of course Gerry has to be Erik…and I picture Kate Hudson as Olivia because she is so funny and sweet and cute…but to tell the truth the I used the name Olivia was stolen from Law and Order SVU character Olivia Benson so I also picture that actress as Olivia. The character Olivia on L&O show is very kind, strong, and helps victims of traumatic events (something I thought Erik would need) …Meg Ryan would be a good choice to (that was suggested to me)

He sat down next to me. For the second time in two days we were out to dinner. In any other situation this would have been a rapidly progressing relationship. I stared at him for moment; impressed with his attire; quite New York for a non native.

Erik looked around the room; a panicked expression on his face, as though he did not belong.

"Did you bring my wallet?" I asked.

(Erik looks for the wallet and can't find it)

"Nope…I didn't bring it!" Erik and Olivia are laughing. Man from crew hands Erik the wallet.

"Ah! Here is it!"

"The nice camera guy had it all along! I guess I should go sleep with him now!" Olivia gets up and makes to go over to the camera guy.

"CUT!"

"So where did you study architecture?" I asked him.

"In Rome," he responded.

"That must have been incredible, do you speak Italian?"

"Not very well anymore, I am out of practice; I used to be better,"

We came to a street crossing, and he continued to walk although the light had not yet changed for us to go.

Olivia forgets to pull him back.

"So your just gonna let me get hit by a car?" Erik is laughing.

"Shit!" Olivia grabs his arm and tugs on it.

"CUT!"

"So where did you study architecture?" I asked him.

Erik thinks for a minute, "I forget,"

"CUT!"

We were just two people who had been searching for love all our lives and never found it. We had both been let down, rejected and heartbroken.

I blame passion for turning my head completely. I figured, even if he did turn out to be just another toxic bachelor in the jungle, I was ready to risk it all over again. I broke our kiss briefly to unlock my door and let us both in.

(Olivia tries to open the door but it won't open)

"Shit! I guess we have to do it in the hall then!" Olivia laughs and she had Erik pretend to start undressing in the hall. (Laughter from crew)

"CUT!"

Erik turned to see me standing there. He was struck to see that I had put on his shirt…his shirt and nothing else.

"Do you want me to?" He got up the courage to ask the burning question.

"You can stay," I felt a bit foolish all of a sudden. I hardly knew this man; of course he would not want to stay. He was just leaving as any other one night stand would. The problem was I didn't want him to be a one night stand. I had done meaningless sex to death…I wanted something real.

(Olivia starts laughing)

"What?" Erik is smiling.

"I feel so naked!" The shirt is only buttoned once so it is off her shoulders and it barely comes down over the top of her legs.

The crew and Erik are laughing as Olivia tries to cover herself up.


End file.
